Old Hijinks
by TheConjuringMind
Summary: Ever wondered what Ronnie and Filkins do on a Friday night? Or what they do in their free time? A collection of scenes with Ronnie and Filkins, set before, during, and after the movie, in complete random order. They're mostly humorous, but some take on more serious tones. Rated T for some mild cursing.
1. A Lonesome Afternoon

**A/N Thank you Kittygrl3 and C for reviewing this story, your feedback did not go unread, and I really appreciate reading your input, so thank you again.**

**This chapter mainly focuses on Filkins and what he does on a typical lonely afternoon. :P  
**

**Song suggestion for this chapter is; Lazy Bones by Green Day (although the song does have some strong language though).**

**Hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I Don't Own Drillbit Taylor.**

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_**A Lonesome Afternoon - **_

Terry lay on his couch, his head on a pillow, arm hanging lazily over the side, staring mindlessly at the plasma screen t.v. in front of him...pretty much bored to death.

And not because he'd lost the remote hours ago, and had himself stuck watching a long, pointless, infomercial, but because he seriously didn't have anything better do.

At least, not without Ronnie around.

On a normal Sunday afternoon, the two of them would be hanging out, riding around town, preying on nerds, hitting on chicks, and grabbing a bite to eat at their favorite burger joint. But today, Ronnie had some lame 'family outing' to attend, which left Terry high and dry, watching t.v. in his living room all by himself.

He would've dug his cellphone out of his back pocket and called up some of his other buddies, but truthfully, he didn't have any. Other than Ronnie, Filkins didn't really have any other close friends.

Sure, he knew some guys. But he wasn't as close with them as he was with Ronnie. They were the type of guys to call for a night filled with partying and beer. Not the kind you could just call up and hang out with. Most of 'em were pretty boring too. They would just ramble on and on about their girlfriends, and 'lady problems'. Something he himself couldn't really relate to.

Yeah, Terry had a few chicks here and there, but they were only-for-the-moment deals. Never anything more. Most of them would get on his nerves within a matter of minutes, anyway. They were always way too chatty. Kept wanting to talk about 'feelings' and other pointless shit like that. And truth be told, he didn't need a girlfriend. Having one would require a lot of up-keep, something he really didn't have the time for.

Although now, on an afternoon as sucky as this, he kinda wished he _did _have a girlfriend. Someone to blow up his cell phone with texts, beg for him to take them out someplace nice, or make-out with on his couch. Hell, even having someone to nag at him for something stupid sounded like fun right now.

Anything would be better than sitting home alone, watching infomercials.

"URRRNNTTT!" Sounded the buzzer from the washroom.

Terry lazily lifted his head up from the couch pillow, none too excited about the fact that the dryer had finally finished its job with his clothes.

Since his parents had moved to Hong Kong, he'd had to start taking care of himself. From buying groceries and making dinner, to washing dishes and his own pair of underwear, he now did it all.

Grudgingly, of course, but he did it nonetheless.

Filkins slowly got up from his spot on the couch, prolonging his fate of folding and putting away nearly every article of clothing that he owned. Though he knew his fate was inevitable, if he didn't do his own laundry, no one else would. Still, he couldn't help stalling the matter.

When he finally made his way into the washroom, he immediately began unloading the dryer and carelessly tossing all the articles of clothing into a (more-or-less) clean hamper.

Other than the sound of the t.v. coming from the other room, the whole house was filled with silence. And it left Terry feeling kinda depressed. Just the other day, him and Ronnie were laughing like mad, cleaning up scattered red solo cups, empty beer cans, and other party trash around the house, trying to recover from the previous night's party.

Now look what he was doing.

Terry tossed the last article of clothing into the hamper (a sock it looked like), along with a little square piece of fabric softener he had put in the load. But not before holding up said fabric softener to his nose to sniff. It was pretty much the only thing he liked about doing the laundry; getting to smell the fresh scent the fabric softener left behind. It just smelled so damn good.

He hoisted the hamper up onto his shoulder to carry, and proceeded making his way down the hall and up the stairs to his room.

He paused on the steps for a minute when his foot came into contact with a small, hard object.

Although irritated at the sudden pain shooting through his foot, he was also curious as to what the hell the thing could possibly be. He thought for sure that him and Ronnie had cleaned everything up from the party yesterday.

He slowly removed his foot from it, revealing a small, silver ring.

How did that get there?

_Must've been from one of the chicks at the party, _he figured.

He stared at it, a brow raised, and bent down to pick it up, somehow managing to do so while balancing the hamper on his shoulder at the same time.

He turned the ring over in his hand, looking at it from all angles, and spotted an engraving on the inside of it.

_Dakota,_ it read.

Terry's brows furrowed in thought.

Wait...did he read that right?

He looked it over once more, and sure enough, it said _Dakota_. And if he wasn't mistaken, the very ring he held in his hand belonged to none other than Dakota Westers; a chick he knew from school.

She was pretty hot too.

Blonde hair, a pretty face, nice body, the whole package.

He wondered where she'd been while she was at his house. He didn't remember seeing her at the party.

Filkins dismissed the thought after a few moments, then put the ring in his pocket and continued making his way upstairs.

It wasn't until he got in his room and started putting away his clothes that he realized how messy the rest of the room was. There were numerous items scattered all across the floor, including: a black hoodie, a pair of boots, an old pizza box, some CDs, candy wrappers, an old History essay (that was due weeks ago), and a pair of socks. Oh, and a pack of gum.

He'd forgotten that when he and Ronnie were cleaning up the house his room was off limits. Now he kinda wished that it wasn't. Because then it would be clean. And not a freakin' trash dump.

Terry groaned.

It wouldn't get picked up if he didn't do it.

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It took him no more than five minutes to tidy up the place, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. After he tossed the old pizza box in the trash, he remembered the ring he had in his pocket, and quickly dug it out to take another look at it.

He absentmindedly wondered if she would want it back, or if she even realized that it was missing in the first place.

Other than the engraving on the inside, there wasn't really anything special about it anyway. It was just a plain silver band. Probably got it from her boyfriend or something though, 'cause really, who in the Hell would get their own name engraved on a ring?

It didn't matter to him though, he was just a little curious is all.

He set the ring down on his dresser; he'd decide what to do with it later.

He shuffled his way out his room and down the stairs.

He was getting kinda hungry, so he figured he'd head to the kitchen.

It shouldn't have been a surprise to discover that all the bowls and plates were dirty, but Terry was still shocked to see the stack of dishes in the sink, nearly a mile high.

"Shit..." he muttered to himself.

This day was going from bad to worse.

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After loading up the dishwasher, Terry rummaged through the fridge in search of something to eat.

Finding nothing but ketchup, mustard, soda, a few slices of cheese, an expired half-gallon of milk, and a few tortilla wraps, he decided to just order a pizza.

Sitting on one of the stools by the kitchen counter, Filkins waited impatiently for the food to arrive. Tapping his hands on the faux marbled counter surface, and bopping his head for no particular reason other than boredom.

After about five minutes, the doorbell rang.

Terry's head snapped up at the sound.

There was no way the Pizza man could be there _that_ quick...Right? He'd only just ordered a few minutes ago.

Either way, he got up from his stool, and walked over to the front door. Which he quickly unlocked and carelessly flung open.

Not-so-shockingly, it wasn't the Pizza man.

In fact, it was another face that he had not been expecting to see for at least another day or so.

Standing no more than a few feet ahead of him, was Ronnie.

Damn, just the dude he wanted to see.

"Ronnie?" Terry tilted his head disbelievingly. "What are you doin' here? I thought you had a 'family outing' to attend."

Ronnie glanced behind himself at the silver SUV in the drive-way, and Terry leaned out the door just in time to spot Mrs. Lampanelli waving to the both of them as she pulled back out onto the road.

"Yeah, about that 'family outing'," Ronnie smirked, making air quotation marks with his fingers.

Terry grinned back at him, and quickly ushered him inside the house.

This was bound to be a hell of day with Ronnie in the house.


	2. Smash Somethin'

**A/N I suggest listening to the song **_**Earthquake **_**by Labrinth Ft. Tinie Tempah when reading this, I had it in mind when I wrote this. ;)**

**Disclaimer: I Don't Own Drillbit Taylor, Twinkies, Hot Pockets, Doritos, or any other products and/or characters mentioned in this story.**

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_**Smash Something -**_

It was a typical late afternoon at Filkins's house. Ronnie had come over to hang out and play video games with Terry on his new Xbox 360, and binge on Doritos and Twinkies.

They ended up playing Army of Two for about three hours straight, then took a short break from their gaming so Ronnie could go into the kitchen and pop a few hot pockets into the microwave to satisfy their hunger.

Terry was still in the living room, secretly playing the game he'd 'paused', trying to figure out how in the hell to get to the next level, when he heard a loud crash come from the kitchen.

"Oh _Jeez!_" Came an annoyed voice from the kitchen.

Attention captured, Terry immediately paused their game and strained his ears to listen for any other sounds.

"Hey, Ronnie..." Terry called from his spot on the couch. "You break somethin'?"

Back in the kitchen, Ronnie was cringing over the shattered china plate before him, biting on his nail nervously.

"...Yeah..." He called back sheepishly.

Terry got up from his spot on the couch, deciding to check out the situation for himself.

"What was it?"

Ronnie bent down to pick up one of the larger pieces of the broken plate, and slowly turned it over in his hand. Even if he did manage to pick up all the shattered pieces, he'd never be able to glue it all back together. At least, not the right way. There were way too many weird patterns and details etched all over them, to be able to follow along with it correctly.

"Uh...just a plate," Ronnie said discreetly.

Terry made his way into the kitchen.

"What kind of plate?" he asked specifically.

Ronnie shrugged.

"Ah, I don't know..." He laughed nervously.

Terry leaned himself against the door frame and crossed his arms impatiently, a single eyebrow raised.

"Some china?" He said nervously, waving the large porcelain piece around in his hand.

Terry was silent for a moment, as if thinking over what he was going to do to punish him for breaking his mom's china.

He slowly made his way over to where Ronnie stood, and gave him a clap on the back. Ronnie flinched just before he did so, then shut his eyes and scrunched up his face, expecting a swat on the head for his clumsiness.

But Terry did nothing of the sort.

Instead, he threw back his head and cackled loudly, amused with the scene before him.

"MY GOD! You're such a _klutz!_" He howled.

Ronnie opened an eye and took a peek in his direction.

Deciding there was no threat present, his muscles relaxed a little, and he exhaled deeply.

"Hahaha..." Ronnie joined in uneasily.

"Did you actually think that I would give a shit about my mom's broken china?" Terry teased, shaking him roughly, but playfully.

"Well, yeah, bro. Like you said; 'It's your mom's china', so-" Ronnie was abruptly interrupted by Filkins snatching a random plate off the kitchen counter, and slamming it against the sink's faucet, shattering it into a million pieces in one loud CRASH!

"-W-wha?" Ronnie stared at him, baffled.

Terry grabbed another plate from the kitchen cupboard and threw it on the hard-tiled floor.

Causing another loud CRASH!

Now Ronnie was really confused.

Was this some kind of game? Or was he just jerking his chain?

Whatever the real reason, Ronnie followed suit and picked up a porcelain plate of his own, looking to Terry for advice.

He nodded once in approval, then Ronnie's hand swung the dish in a downward motion on the corner of the kitchen counter.

CRASH!

Another broken plate.

Ronnie chuckled lightly in enjoyment.

It had been a while since he'd smashed something and felt good about it.

And I mean, _man_, did he _feel good!_

Truthfully, it was kinda therapeutic.

He reached for another plate and smashed it in just the same way.

Then before they knew it, they were picking up all sorts of plates and dishes, slamming them on the floor, throwing them at the walls, tossing them across the room like frisbees, and shattering them with other household objects like a bunch of unruly kids.

And it was surprisingly more fun than playing video games on the Xbox 360.

They went on tossing plates, bowls, cups, and just about anything they could get their hands on for about 10 minutes straight before finally running out of all breakable dishes (the rest were plastic), and by the time they were done, they sat themselves down on the tiled floor, backs against the dishwasher, laughing like there was no tomorrow.

They _had_ acquired a few cuts and wounds from such hard, breakable items, but it was all worth it.

After a while, the laughter died down though, and Ronnie asked the one question that had to be lingering somewhere far back in both of their minds.

"Who's gonna clean this up?"

And despite the loud yells, hollering voices, and wholehearted laughter that they had shared only moments before, they now both fell silent.

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**A/N Hope you enjoyed it! There are more chapters to come!**

**If you feel like you have the time, please drop me a review and tell me what you liked! Catch ya next time! ;)**


	3. Detention

**Author's Note: Thank you for your patience, forgive me the long absence. This particular piece is based off a deleted scene from the film.**

**Disclaimer: I Don't Own Drillbit Taylor**

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**Detention - **

Filkins glared at Mr. Taylor from across the room.

He'd been stuck sitting at his desk for nearly an hour, staring boredly at the clock on the wall in front of him, waiting for Mr. Taylor to let him leave.

He'd been kept after class for 'picking on' one of his classmates, but in all truth it was just a little razzing.

Terry was already on a short fuse as it was, and him being kept after school on a Friday didn't help.

"You got something you want to say?" Asked Mr. Taylor peering from over the top of a romance novel he had in his hands.

"This is bullshit!" Terry outbursted.

"Profanity!" said Mr. Taylor, shaking his head. "You just got yourself another hour of detention."

"Bit my ass, sub!" Filkins bit out.

"Insubordination." Said Mr. Taylor, getting up from his seat.

"You want another one?" He threatened, walking over to Terry.

Filkins smiled.

He knew he was trying to look intimidating, but the fact that all he had as a threat was giving him a few more hours of detention made him so much more pathetic than he already was.

"Keep going." said Mr. Taylor, kicking the empty chair in front of him to turn it around.

Hilariously, the chair ended up being a lot heavier than it looked, and only moved a few inches from the contact his leg made.

Mr. Taylor stared down at the object for a split second in embarrassment, then positioned the chair to face Terry.

"I got nothing to do." He said, seating himself in front of him. "Believe me, I've got _nothing_ to do."

Terry leaned over his desk, and tilted his head.

"I'll keep you here all day, boy."

Terry didn't believe him for a second. He knew Mr. Taylor hated being kept in that room about as much as he did.

"Yeah," Mr. Taylor nodded, as if his threat was actually valid.

Filkins smirked, amused.

If it was a challenge he was looking for, a challenge he would get.

"Till you learn."

Filkins' smile stretched even wider.

He'd figured that even a sub as dumb as Mr. Taylor would realize that learning wasn't his shtick.

"Okay-?" He asked before cutting himself off as another teacher entered the room.

It was an older woman with short, curly, brown hair.

"You have to leave. I've got a class here in five minutes." She said matter-of-factly.

"Right now?" Mr. Taylor asked, looking over his shoulder in her direction.

"Yeah." She confirmed, walking over to the teacher's desk, and setting down a few folders she had in her hands.

Mr. Taylor turned his head back around to face Terry, and sighed disappointedly.

Terry smirked victoriously, and bolted out of his seat before he was given the permission to go.

Mr. Taylor turned around in his seat.

"But you owe me an hour, mister!"

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When Terry reached the school parking lot, he spotted Ronnie leaning against the passenger door to his Mustang, hands in his pockets, a smile on his face.

"Yo, Ron what're you doin' here?"

"You were my ride, man!" Ronnie explained. "What took you so long?"

"Detention." Terry said shortly, grabbing his keys from his front pocket and unlocking the car.

He may have been kept after class, but the day wasn't over yet.

It was still a Friday, after all.


End file.
